


Guaro

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Biting, Breeding Kink, Claiming, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Trans Male Character, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 06:11:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6789598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nori pushes Lindir a tad too far, and Elrond comes to claim the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guaro

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MistressOfLions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressOfLions/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for anon’s “While the dwarves are at Rivendell the stress they make causes Lindir to go into an early heat. Cue Elrond becoming possessive of him and claiming him with bites while Lindir begs for more. Non-con is a major no-no. Biting, scratching, dirty talk, breeding kink, and begging are for bonus points, especially the breeding kink. Would also kinda like some voyeurism wether accidental or not is up to the writer” prompt on [the Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/14338.html?thread=26549762#t26549762).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“We only need a little more,” Nori lies, having to run to keep pace with Lindir’s long strides—when they first arrived, all the elves moved slowly, patiently, but now Lindir always looks one step from breaking and hurries from one task to another, perhaps to escape Nori’s pestering. Ever persistent, Nori pushes, “Just a barrel—”

“There _are_ no more barrels,” Lindir answers, voice frazzled and withered, the exasperation clear in his tense posture. “You have quite emptied the kitchens.”

“But surely a place like this with the great Lord Elrond could easily send for a—”

He doesn’t get to finish. Lindir stops walking abruptly, forcing Nori to double back, cutting off at the sudden look of horror on Lindir’s face. He lets out a broken noise, then a loud gasp, then clutches his stomach, his throat—the normally so prissy attendant nearly bends in two like he’s going to lose his stomach all over the paving stones of the garden path they’re on. All thoughts of ale leave Nori’s head. He wants more alcohol, of course, but clearly Lindir’s ill, and that’s more important—Nori just hopes it hasn’t been his belligerence that pushed the delicate creature over the edge. He reaches a hand out to pat Lindir’s shoulder, now lowered to his own height, but Lindir shivers and pulls away, crying out again. Then a wave of sheer _heat_ , thick like perfume, hits Nori so hard he’s almost knocked off his feet. More so than any of his companions, Nori isn’t new to travel, and he recognizes the feral cloud of raw pheromones. He knows of elves and their mysterious conditions, but this is the first time he’s ever been so close to witness it personally.

Lindir claps a hand over his mouth, trembling, face flushed pink and brows drawn worryingly together. He tries to push himself up and takes a step forward towards the nearest structure, an arched hallway into the Last Homely House. He looks like he’s going to collapse.

Nori instantly grabs Lindir, steadying him, and though Lindir makes a helpless whining noise, he doesn’t seem to have the strength to pull away again. Nori helps Lindir across the path and wonders vainly what he’s supposed to _do_. He can’t just leave some poor elf in the midst of _heat_ out for anyone to find and possibly take advantage of. Could _he_ help? Usually, Nori prefers other dwarfs, plump and hairy with plenty of soft flesh, hard muscle and warm fat beneath his stout fingers, but he’s always up for an adventure, and the foreign beauty of elves isn’t completely lost on him... Lindir’s hardly his type: too persnickety and innocent, but of course he wants to help if he can, and he knows the best remedy for a heat: something he can certainly give...

Thorin would throw a fit, of course. But Nori’s weathered enough of Dori’s fits over his other less than savoury antics to have a thick skin over what others think. Kíli would probably understand; he clearly has an eye for elves. And fucking anything in heart, hard like an animal, is too appealing for anyone to be reasonably expected to resist. 

Barely under the wooden arch, Nori leads Lindir to a wicker bench. Lindir slips onto it, his body so hot to the touch that Nori’s almost glad to let him go, even with Lindir’s thick robes between them. Awkwardly, Nori mutters, “If this is about stress, don’t worry about the ale—”

“Please...” Lindir whimpers, though he can’t seem to form enough words to say please _what_. Nori licks his lips, eyeing Lindir’s, watching Lindir’s blunt teeth nip and chew at his bottom one, opening here and there for weak little noises. Lindir opens wide again, trying to say more, but Nori already knows what Lindir needs. The bench makes them almost the same height. He leans in, ready to kiss Lindir’s troubles away.

But Lindir thrusts a hand out and pushes Nori back. His strength is pathetic, but Nori pulls away anyway, face scrunching up in disappointment—so much for that. And it was such a good opportunity, too.

Lindir mumbles, “My lord... ahh...”

And Nori begrudgingly grunts, “Right. Sure.” Except he doesn’t know if he should leave Lindir alone to go fetch that lord—who he’s heard is the best healer in Rivendell—or not. The next person to find Lindir, dwarf or otherwise, might not be so restrained as Nori when faced with a beautiful elf radiating sexual pheromones.

He doesn’t have to. Lindir’s barely gotten out another letter before a figure comes rushing down the long hall, pace stern but quick. Nori recognizes the crimson robes and glistening circlet even at a distance. Even hurrying as he clearly is, Elrond has an air of _royalty_ , of regal strength that has Nori automatically stepping back, leaving room at Lindir’s side. Elrond barely looks at Nori as he approaches. His normally kind face is harder, eyes just for Lindir, and Lindir lifts his arms with a needy whimper. Elrond drifts right into them. 

Taking a seat beside Lindir, Elrond holds Lindir tight, tight as a dwarf would, but Lindir lets out a delighted cry at the pressure, his own arms clinging tightly around Elrond’s neck. Nori watches as Elrond splays one hand across Lindir’s slender back, holding him in, and soothingly strokes him with the other. Lindir snuggles his face into Elrond’s shoulder and begs, quiet and rasping, “My lord, my lord _please_ —I need... I...”

“I am here, my Lindir,” Elrond purrs, voice deep and promising. Lindir’s wracked with a sudden shudder just from those few words alone. How a healer would remedy an Elven heat, Nori has no idea, but it’s clear Elrond’s already gained Lindir’s trust.

Then Lindir gasps, “ _Mark me_ ,” and rolls his body wantonly into his lord’s. One of his legs, tangled in his robes, tosses over Elrond’s lap, his hips undulating against Elrond’s, though Elrond holds firm, steady, only slightly larger in stature but much more so in presence. Lindir moans, “Take me, please, mark me as yours, make everyone know that I am _yours_ , please, I need to bear your claim...” He trails off as Elrond threads long fingers into his brown hair, tugging it lightly back. Whining at the tug but obediently tilting his head away, Lindir lets himself be parted from their embrace. His hands slide from Elrond’s shoulder to clutch at the front of Elrond’s robes, and Elrond guides his head aside. 

To Nori’s complete surprise, Elrond leans over Lindir’s neck and opens wide, biting down into Lindir’s pale flesh. Lindir makes a strangled noise of sheer ecstasy, his pupils dilating and lashes drooping. Elrond lingers, branding in the mark of his teeth, then trails lower to nip at Lindir’s collarbone. With a firm tug to Lindir’s sleeve, snapping the top buttons of Lindir’s robes right open, Elrond drags the neckline down over Lindir’s shoulder. He bites there next, this time giving Nori a perfect side view of Rivendell’s stately host turned ravenous.

It’s as though they’ve completely forgotten Nori; they’re both so engulfed in each other. Lindir’s eyes are distant, far off and lost, except when they return to eye Elrond, so overcome with clear adoration that it’s a wonder he hasn’t driven himself to faint. Elrond has eyes only for Lindir as he brands one spot after the other, his teeth dragging all over Lindir’s shoulders and throat, his hands starting to claw at Lindir’s waist. Lindir begs a steady litany of, “ _Please, oh, yes_!” and grinds their bodies together.

Slowly, Lindir’s clothes come undone, not falling off but parting, still covering too much, but Elrond rips at the buttons and slides the heavy fabric up Lindir’s creamy thighs, pushing off his boots to reveal slim calves and small feet, tugs his sleeves lower and lower down his arms and exposes more and more of his chest. Elrond’s hands cover every area they reach, blunt nails digging in to leave angry red scratches all over Lindir’s delicate body. Nori would’ve never imagined elves could be so _rough_ , but Lindir begs for every bit of it, and Elrond gives him that relief, stimulating every aching part of Lindir’s body. 

As Elrond dips his roaming hands beneath the still-tied waist of Lindir’s robes, Lindir moans, “ _Oh_ , ohh, will you breed me this time? Please? I promise, my lord, I will give you such good young...”

“I know you will,” Elrond sighs, pausing in his vicious bites to peck Lindir’s cheek. “You have always been good for me. But you are yet very young...”

“I am ripe,” Lindir promises, bucking eager hips up, “I am fertile, and you have said Imladris needs new children; please, let me be the one to give them to you... breed me... as much as you wish, please, put your child in me...”

Elrond seems to consider this, eyeing Lindir intently, and one hand slips right between Lindir’s legs, cupping him—it occurs to Nori that he’s seen no bulge there, and Lindir is clearly very aroused. When Elrond’s hand slides away, it smears a clear liquid across Lindir’s thigh. Lindir whimpers, and Elrond makes a soothing noise, pressing their foreheads together as Lindir begs, “ _Please_ , even if you wish me not to raise them, let me bear them for you, use me as your breeding stock, I would do nothing but care for you and your wishes, if I could...” Elrond presses a firm kiss against this lips, stifling the rest, but Lindir stills lets out needy mewls and keening noises. Elrond kisses him until he’s panting and moaning too much to form words again so soon.

“Of course I would have you raise them,” Elrond murmurs, his face staying close to Lindir’s and his hand coming to carefully tuck Lindir’s long hair, sticking to his face with sweat, back behind his ears. “If I were to breed you, you would not simply be stock, but a partner...” Lindir seems to _melt_ , releasing a strained noise of such bliss that Nori wonders if he’s come. Elrond waits it out, kisses Lindir’s cheek again and continues, “You are very precious to me, my dear Lindir, and if I were to have more children, I would want them to grow inside you. ...But you are only in a shallow heat, likely brought from the stress I have thrust upon you, and you deserve to be bred with more planning...”

“I do not _care_ ,” Lindir hisses. “I do not, my lord, I _always_ want you, always want you inside me, you know that I worship you, that I live for you—”

Another kiss cuts him off, and Elrond stops only to bite into Lindir’s cheek, branding in the first mark on Lindir’s pretty face, the others all where clothes could cover them. It silences Lindir, who contents himself now with mewling and rutting himself against his lord, until Elrond finishes, licks over the red grooves left behind, and promises, “I will have you, my dear Lindir. I have claimed you, and I will fill you, but I will not breed you this time. We have plenty of time yet to do it _right_.” Lindir whimpers but seems to accept it, trying to burry his face in Elrond’s shoulder again. Elrond strokes through his hair and holds him, kissing his ear. 

For the first time, Elrond’s eyes glance at Nori, and he says loud enough for both of them, “I will rip your clothes away and take you, when there is no one else to see your nakedness but me.”

Lindir jerks away from Elrond as if burned, hands still clinging to him but face swiveling to face Nori, who’s grown numb with arousal just from watching. Lindir practically shouts at him, in the same begging tone, “Leave!”

Nori half knows he probably should’ve as soon as Elrond showed up. But it was just too _hot_ , and he doesn’t want to go now, wants to stay and watch Elrond impale and fuck Lindir senseless, but the small scrap of a conscience Nori has left tugs at him. Only his Dwarven honour allows him to start heading back under the arch, burning face turning away from the sensual scene. For once in his life, he’s speechless. 

As he walks around the corner, he can hear Lindir’s cry of delight, and he pictures Elrond shoving wildly into Lindir’s tight heat. The ale he came for is quite forgotten. All he wants now is an empty room and his hand, and maybe a recap tomorrow of all the joys he’s missing.


End file.
